


Sweet Mephostophilis

by chuusei_teki_na_koe



Category: 7人のシェイクスピア | 7-nin no Shakespeare | Seven Shakespeares (Manga), Shakespeare RPF | Elizabethan & Jacobean Theater RPF
Genre: Drunk Sex, First Time, Literary References & Allusions, M/M, Pining, Religious Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:54:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29478033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chuusei_teki_na_koe/pseuds/chuusei_teki_na_koe
Summary: Worth just wanted to spend some time alone at a quiet tavern getting quietly drunk. The last person he expected to find here was one Christopher Marlowe, looking at him across the room and raising his mug slightly in invitation.No harm in just talking, right?
Relationships: Christopher Marlowe/Worth Hughes | John Combe, Worth Hughes | John Combe/William Shakespeare
Kudos: 1





	Sweet Mephostophilis

**Author's Note:**

> Probably nobody is going to read this because nobody has read this manga, but I don't even caaaaare I needed to write this. I want Christopher Marlowe to fuck. That is all.
> 
> Set at an indeterminate point during the theater war.

It was a testament to Worth's state of mind that he didn't notice Christopher Marlowe was in the tavern—maybe he'd been there to begin with, or maybe he'd come after, Worth couldn't say. If he'd noticed Marlowe was there, Worth certainly would have done an about-face at the door, but now that he was here and slightly drunk, he felt as if leaving would be admitting defeat.

Marlowe was sitting across the tavern at a table by himself—unusual, since he usually had that sneering pederast or some other cronies at his side—and his attire was a little subdued, compared to his usual tasteless pomp. (If you were going to spend all that money on fine clothes, Worth thought, you should at least have the taste to match everything nicely, rather than simply showing off how you bought it all from the fanciest tailor in London). So perhaps Marlowe had also wanted to avoid drawing attention to himself and be alone for a bit. So then why was he beckoning Worth?

Worth turned his head away in a huff, but when his eyes slid sideways again, Marlowe was still looking at him, leaning his cheek on one hand with a quirk of a smirk on his lips. Just seeing that look on his face put Worth in an even fouler mood than he already had been.

Quiet exasperated, Worth heaved himself off his seat—with only the slightest sway—taking his own mug with him to plop himself down opposite Marlowe. “What?” he demanded, abandoning all courtesy straight out of the gate.

“No need to be so hostile,” Marlowe replied, but his smile didn't reach his eyes. His face was charming, even though he always wore nasty smiles, and the hand that fiddled with the handle of his beer mug was elegant and well-groomed. “There's never been any bad blood between the two of us personally, Worth Hughes.”

Worth relaxed just a tad, but didn't let his guard down. “Forgive me for assuming that there's no reason at all for us to be on friendly terms, considering your company is out to ruin us.”

“Anyone can be friendly after a few drinks,” Marlowe said, waving a bar maid over to tell her, “Get my friend here some of the good wine, not the watered-down piss you feed to peasants,” and the woman nodded without a complaint, returning with a new mug for Worth, and topping up Marlowe's mug from a pitcher.

Worth took an experimental sip. It was, in fact, quite good. “Thank you,” he said grudgingly after a moment. “But why call me over here?”

“Just curious to see you here,” Marlowe replied. “Is this your first time?”

“I don't make a habit of drinking, no,” Worth replied, straightening in his seat. “I have better things to do with my time.”

“How better to spend your time than pleasure? Anyone in the theater business knows that,” Marlowe said, and Worth couldn't quite tell if he was being ironic or not. He emphasized the word _pleasure_ in a way that made Worth uncomfortable.

“I don't know terribly much when it comes to theater,” Worth offered his standard reply with a frown. “My job is simply to manage finances.”

“Hmm.” Marlowe took a long drink from his mug, throat bobbing as he swallowed, taking his time savoring the taste before he set his mug down. He was looking at Worth in a close, evaluating way that made Worth want to squirm, but he restrained the urge. “And what do you get out of the deal? From what I hear, you're a very capable businessman. You could be doing much better if you weren't shackled to that lot of incompetents and hacks.”

Worth bristled. “I do quite well for myself, thank you.”

“Then why are you here, drinking cheap beer?” Marlowe said, his tone more toward cutting than sympathetic.

“Why are _you_ here?” Worth shot back, and immediately felt quite juvenile for it. “Are you feeling lonely without your usual crowd of sycophants and pederasts?”

Marlowe's eyebrow quirked upward slightly. He didn't seem in the least offended. “Pederasts can be quite fine company, you know. At least they're an honest lot. I trust a man when I know where his dick has been. If a man appears upright, that just means he's better at hiding it.” And with another smirk, he tossed back some wine with another long, evaluating look at Worth.

Worth felt his face go hot, but he told himself it was just the wine. “Well, the debased mind sees debasement all around him, no doubt.”

Marlowe laughed, a short, barking sound. “Oh, I guarantee you that whatever you may have heard of me, I've done ten times worse. Debased, debauched, besmirched, befouled—yes, I won't deny any of it. But what of it? If this is devil-worship, then I will gladly suck His Infernal Majesty's thick goat cock.”

Worth didn't even know what to say to that, and Marlowe seemed to enjoy his reaction, the grin on his face spreading wider. “Come on now, you can't play innocent with me, not as peers in _this_ business. We're all going to hell, every last one of us.” Marlowe definitely seemed rather drunk, his cheeks pinker than usual and his lips wet with wine—he smiled more when he was drunk, showed more tooth.

“It would be conceding too much to the Puritans to say such a thing,” Worth shot back haughtily. “If one would be a devoted servant of God as well as a player or playwright, I see no contradiction there.”

This time Marlowe laughed for real, tears beading at the corners of his eyes as he belted out loud. “Oh,” he said after he was done, wiping one eye. “So are you still a devoted servant of God, lost in this den of sinners? How quaint! How absolutely quaint. I hope the denial of pleasure gives you some sort of heavenly joy, at least,” he said, waving a dismissive hand.

Worth couldn't help but feel like he was being treated like a child, but he was getting a little too drunk to be able to formulate a proper argument. At some point, his mug had gone empty, but there was more wine in it now. “Excuse me? What possible pleasures could be worth—”

“Everything,” Marlowe cut him off, dropping his mug on the table with a thud. “Isn't that why you came here? Seeking pleasure? Are you not getting it at home? ...Or from your dear _friend_ Shakespeare?”

Worth surged to his feet, enraged, but immediately regretted it, swaying a bit, and he had to set a hand on the table to steady himself.

“Oh, calm down, calm down,” Marlowe waved at him, rolling his eyes. “You know everyone already assumes you two are fucking? I beg you not to shoot the messenger.”

Worth slid back into his seat again, sure he was flushed all the way to his chest. “I-I...”

Marlowe smiled at him, something just a hair softer than his earlier smirks. “You truly don't associate with the players much, do you? I told you, all the stories are true; we're a den of sinners. That's what happens when you spend your boyhood putting on women's clothes to seduce men, one assumes.”

“Do _you_ put on women's clothes to seduce men?” Worth shot back, desperate to turn the conversation away from himself.

“I put on men's clothes to seduce men,” Marlowe replied smoothly. “Just as I do this very minute.”

It was then that Worth finally realized just how much Marlowe had been looking at him—at his face, down his loosened collar, at his hands on his mug. And conversely—how much he had been looking at Marlowe. It was just because he was drunk, really—he wasn't normally like this. But he wouldn't deny that Marlowe was a very handsome man. The precise curve of his jaw, the color of the wine on his lips, and his hair looked—so smooth—

Caught in Marlowe's gaze, Worth was entirely at a loss for his reply.

“You're charming,” Marlowe said with a smile that almost seemed genuine. “I don't meet many as sincere as you, these days. Perhaps I'm too used to this den of sinners.”

The heat traveled down from Worth's face to his chest and lower. He yanked his gaze away from Marlowe, looking back at his mug. His good sense—the voice of God—was telling him he should leave right this minute, but well, if he'd been capable of listening to the voice of God, he never would have wound up here in the first place, crying over cheap beer because Will had found a lover who wasn't him.

And so here he was, listening to the whispers of the devil, instead.

“Come back to my place,” Marlowe said, resting his chin on his fist. “And I can offer you something better than this wine.”

x x x

Marlowe lived in a house that was too large for one man, and when he brought Worth through the door, the maid responded as if this was nothing at all new, taking Worth's cape and hat to hang and stirring up the coals in the kitchen to heat some water.

Worth saw no one else but the maid, though, and he knew better than to ask as to Marlowe's family.

What Worth wasn't expecting, however, was that the moment they were through Marlowe's bedroom door, Marlowe would slam him roughly against the wall and press their mouths together.

Startled, all Worth had the presence of mind left to do was open his mouth and move his lips hesitantly in response to Marlowe's aggressive intrusion. His heart rattled in his chest as he felt Marlowe's hands smoothly making quick work on the buttons of his tunic, yanking it down around his shoulders to expose Worth's chest to the cold air of the room. There had been a low fire prepared here, but it was still chilly, bringing Worth's nipples to pert points that Marlowe immediately warmed with his mouth.

Marlowe shoved Worth toward the bed, abandoning some more clothing on the way—Worth's head sloshed around, far too drunk—he wasn't even sure how he'd gotten here and was a little worried about finding his way back, but those thoughts were quickly chased out of his mind when he found himself naked on his back with Marlowe's lips wrapped around his cock.

Worth jolted, but Marlowe kept a firm grip on his hips, holding him down as his lips traveled the length of Worth's cock from tip to base at a tantilizingly slow pace. Worth made the mistake of looking down at him for a moment, and saw Marlowe return his gaze with upturned eyes that crinkled slightly as he lowered his mouth all the way down to nestle in Worth's pubic hair.

Worth turned away, but that didn't stop Marlowe.

Slick heat moved up and down Worth's cock, mouth and tongue making a tight coil that kept him in place and made his thighs tremble. Worth's fingers curled in the sheets, with barely enough presence of mind to smother a moan as Marlowe swallowed him whole. It felt _good,_ a hell of a lot better than his own hand, even if it wasn't the person he always fantasized it would be. But God, imagine it was Will with his lips around him like this, making those obscene wet sounds—

Feeling a slick prod at his asshole, Worth jolted, but the finger pushed in regardless, stroking up inside him while Marlowe's mouth worked at his cock. That finger touched— _something—_ and Worth cried out with another jolt, his hips involuntarily canting into Marlowe's mouth, but Marlowe took it without batting an eye, gently continuing to stroke inside him as the pace of his mouth accelerated and a second finger joined the first.

Worth arched up off the bed, rocking slightly against the fingers inside him. “I—I can't—” Maybe he'd just carved a groove into his mind from too many sessions alone, but suddenly, all he could think about was Will—the feel of Will's arms slung around his shoulders, or the warmth of his breath on the back of his neck the time he'd tried to startle Worth by coming up behind him, or when he pitched his voice low so only Worth could hear, and just for an instant, he made himself believe it wasn't Marlowe with him in the bedroom, and as he came, the name spilled out of him thoughtlessly in a choked murmur.

“...Will!”

Marlowe's hand pulled out of Worth's ass, his lips pulling off his dick with a pop as he swallowed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and when his hand dropped, a sneer was on his face. “If you're going to be in my bedroom,” he said, reaching over to the bedside table to pull out a bottle and dump some oil over his hand, “I'm going to have to ask you don't call out the names of other men. Especially not _that_ one.”

As Marlowe ran his slick hand over his erect cock, Worth jolted himself out of his post-orgasmic haze enough to push himself into a sitting position. “What's it to you?” he shot back drunkenly. “We're not lovers. This is just—”

“Sinning?” Marlowe supplied, leaning over Worth, pushing him down again. “But this is _my_ sin, not _his,_ and I want the audience cheering my name. _Christopher. Marlowe._ Say it.”

“Say your own name, you arrogant poof.”

Worth's composure fell apart when Marlowe pushed his legs apart, though, prodding at his hole with the head of his cock—it hurt, and he shoved Marlowe back. “When did I say you could do that?”

Marlowe just looked annoyed. “Oh, please, I got you off, if it's not to your taste, just suck it up...” then he trailed off, and seeing the look on Worth's face, his expression turned to sincere surprise. “Wait...have you never done this before?”

“Of course not!”

“Really? _Really?_ Marlowe seemed excited, leaning in close to Worth's face. “You've never let that mangled barnacle fuck you?”

“ _Mangled barnacle?_ And we don't have that sort of relationship, it's not—”

Marlowe stopped him, catching his chin in one hand to force Worth to look at him. “But you're in love with him. Completely, utterly in love with him.”

Worth just clenched his teeth shut, but seeing Marlowe's face, he knew that was enough of a reaction.

Marlowe smiled at him in a way that Worth couldn't place as either kind or cruel. “You're an absolute fool. Forget about him. You're pretty,” Marlowe's thumb stroked his cheek, “But you can't compete with a woman,” his tone held a bitterness that Worth had never heard before, but he wasn't about to prod. He had absolutely no interest in Marlowe's business. This was just...a temporary carnal escape.

“I don't need that from him,” Worth shot back. “I wouldn't sully our friendship.”

“ _Sully?”_ Marlowe pressed down against him, pushing the head of his cock against Worth's hole again—not going in, just prodding gently as Marlowe's lips moved down Worth's neck, biting lightly at his collarbone. “Yes, fine, keep your pure and true friendship. But don't be mistaken.” His lips moved up to Worth's ear to whisper softly, “You're already just as filthy and depraved as I am. Now relax your asshole so I can fuck you.”

Worth turned his head to the side and didn't say anything. But he knew Marlowe could feel his body relax.

It actually didn't hurt as bad as Worth had been expecting, but maybe that was just because he was drunk. Marlowe was surprisingly gentle about it, waiting and taking it slow for him. “I like virgins,” Marlowe said conversationally as Worth writhed beneath him. “I love to see a man go from pure and chaste to absolutely debauched and begging for cock. There's nothing like it.” He was panting a bit, the chill of the room long forgotten as his hips pushed into Worth, spreading him open.

“Like a devil...dragging souls to hell,” Worth said, gasping lightly in between his words.

“...Yes, just exactly like that! But you'll come willingly, after tonight!” Marlowe followed that with a sharp snap of his hips that made Worth yelp, and he wasn't able to argue.

Marlowe was relentless. After his gentle introduction, he pushed Worth's legs up to his shoulders and fucked him hard, leaving bite marks all over his neck and shoulders, shifting angle every so often, lowering one leg to go from the side, before pulling out, flipping him over, and going at it from behind, next.

“Tell me,” Marlowe said, “Which do you like better, front or behind?” And when when Worth didn't answer him immediately, he gave his ass a smack. “I'm doing you the courtesy of asking your preferences!”

“Funny, you don't sound very courteous to me,” Worth panted out, to which Marlowe smacked his ass again.

“I've been nothing but courteous to you tonight, giving you a gentle induction in the arts of pleasure. Plenty of men would have fucked you raw in a cold back alley and left you to deal with the mess. I think I deserve some appreciation for showing you a good time.” Marlowe kept his hips moving as he spoke, one hand on the back of Worth's head in his hair.

“...I prefer behind, since I don't have to look at your face,” Worth replied. “Unfortunately, it seems there's nothing I can do to block out the sound of your v— _ahh!_ ” Marlowe slammed in hard, his grip in Worth's hair pulling Worth up to press is back against Marlowe's chest. Marlowe's hand slid from his hair to wrap around his neck, while the other went around his waist to stroke where Worth had become hard again.

“Say _thank you, Christopher Marlowe,_ ” Marlowe murmured in his ear, “ _for clawing me away from God and showing me more pleasure then I've ever allowed myself to experience in my life. Thank you for fucking me like William Shakespeare never fucked me. Now every time I touch myself, I'll be thinking of your cock instead—_ ”

“Shut your filthy mouth—” Worth's hand snapped back to try to hit something, but he wound up just gripping Marlowe's thigh, unable to finish the remark.

“It's making you so hard, though? Your cock is weeping for it, I can feel your ass clenching around me,” Marlowe's breath was hot on Worth's neck. “Now that you know this, there's no repentance or redemption. You're coming to hell with me, willingly riding my cock and moaning like a whore the whole way. Now say my fucking name, you devil's slut.”

Worth just moaned through clenched teeth, though he couldn't stop himself from arching back into Marlowe's hips and rocking in time, feeling the heat building inside him again—when Marlowe pulled out all the way and released his cock, abandoning him right as he was reaching the brink, Worth cried out and cursed. “Marlowe...” he moaned, shame abandoned in the heat of the moment, “Christopher Marlowe...”

“That's it,” Marlowe said kindly, grabbing his shoulder to turn him over again so he could pull Worth into his lap and fuck him on his back. “No one else will give you pleasure like this. So be grateful!”

“You're such a...” Worth didn't bother to finish the remark, though, his whole mind occupied by Marlowe's length pounding into him at a bruising pace, Marlowe's hand squeezing the tip of his cock until he whined.

“I'm going to fuck you until you chant my name,” Marlowe hissed, leaning down to bite a mark around Worth's already bruised nipple, and Worth could only moan in response.

Worth didn't remember if that prediction came true or not.

x x x

Worth woke up the next morning feeling like absolute garbage.

He'd woken up because of the cold, and he found that Marlowe was curled up beside him in a tight ball, hogging all of the blankets to himself. It seemed he was fast asleep.

“As expected,” Worth muttered to himself, rubbing a hand over his face as he glanced around the room. There was a bucket of washwater left out, and Worth found it was still slightly warm. Had the maid come in earlier to leave it? He didn't want to think about it. Wetting the cloth laid out, he cleaned himself the best he could before he went to collecting his clothing from the floor, only slightly horrified by how wrinkled his trousers were after being smushed in the corner of the bed all night.

As he was getting his clothes on, it seemed he awoke Marlowe. Marlowe pushed himself up with a yawn, watching Worth get dressed.

“Good morning,” Worth said stiffly, to which Marlowe replied with a grin.

“I hope you had a nice sleep,” Marlowe said with cutting sweetness. “They do say exhaustion will put you out like a light.” Worth just scowled in reply.

When Worth was dressed and just about ready to leave, Marlowe suddenly said, “You should join us.”

“Join you?” Worth turned back to ask.

“The Admiral's Men,” Marlowe replied, lying on his side with his chin in his hand. With his tousled hair and lying half-out of the blankets like that, he looked _exceptionally_ alluring, and Worth was struck with the irritating urge to dive right back in there and smack that obnoxious smirk off his face. “We could use someone like you. Henslowe is a control freak, but he loves money most of all. If you're efficient, he'll cede to you. You could easily be running some of our side enterprises within the year.”

“Do you honestly think I would agree?” Worth rolled his eyes.

“Shakespeare is going to ruin you. I'm offering you a way out.”

“Don't assume you're going to win.”

Marlowe chuckled. “Worth Hughes, I've already won a pleasure far greater than the money we're going to wring from the Lord Strange's Men once you're ruined. Say hello to Shakespeare for me, will you? And be sure to show off your rumpled clothes and how blatantly you smell of sex.”

“Fuck you,” Worth snarled back at him, yanking open the bedroom door.

But as he was walking out, he heard behind him, “I'm feeling quite inspired, for once...I think I'll write a new play, in commemoration of our night of pleasure.”

Worth slammed the door behind him.


End file.
